Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Set before 'Need to Know' - and the rest of season 8 isn't a factor of any kind in this story too. It's more an 'original' JAG-story and features a good deal of Harm/Mac-shipper.

IMPORTANT WARNING:

In some chapters will be references to 09-11, to the war against terrorism and to the direct threats to the United States.

IF THIS UPSETS YOU PLEASE STOP READING!

I've tried to handle everything with respect and don't want to offend anybody.

Everything was a white blur. The white nothing seemed to spin around, frightening movement behind its clouds. Commander Harmon Rabb swayed, blinked and - stood in the bullpen of JAG headquarters.

- JAG Headquarters, Thursday, late afternoon

Harm shook his head. 'What was that?' He looked around. Nothing white, nothing spinning. And he was standing in the middle of the bullpen like a fool. With a sigh he continued his way and approached Petty Officer Jason Tiner sorting files on Harriet's desk.

"Tiner, where are the files I've asked for?"

Tiner didn't bother to look up. He seemed to be totally occupied by his work.

"Tiner? Tiner!" Harm repeated, getting louder every time. Still no reaction.

"Petty Officer, I'm talking to -" He was interrupted by Mac darting out of her office.

"Tiner!"

Immediately Tiner lifted his head. "Yes, Ma'am?"

Harm snorted. "Hey, Mac, what's your secret - oh!" He barely managed to get out of her way as she reached the desk, nearly knocking him down. She spared no look at him. He shook his head in wonder. 'What have I done now?'

"Have you heard anything of Commander Rabb?" Her serious question puzzled him. He laughed weakly.

"I'm here, Mac. You should really watch -"

"No, Ma'am, I'm sorry. Should I try his cell phone?" Tiner frowned.

"Tiner!" yelled Harm.

"He turned it off. I've tried more than twenty times during the last hour but all I got is the 'not available' speech." Mac's voice was trembling slightly.

"Okay. That's it. It may have been funny but enough is enough." Harm stepped forward and grabbed Mac's arm. Or better: He tried to. His fingers went through the uniform and the flesh without resistance.

"Oh, God!" Harm stumbled backwards. And through the next desk. He was too shocked for another scream. His heart suddenly pounded in his throat. He felt cold sweat on his forehead.

"What - what's this?" he whispered. "A dream - it has to be a dream! Yes, a nightmare! Sure a nightmare! Come on, Harm, wake up! I have to wake up!"

"Admiral on deck," shouted somebody.

"At ease," growled Admiral AJ Chegwidden. He caught a look at Mac's worried expression and walked over to her and the Petty Officer.

"Colonel, is there a problem?"

Harm inched forward and felt for the desk. Nothing. He could see his hand disappear in the surface but it was like grabbing into foggy air. He pulled his hand back and stared at it.

"Well, yes, Sir. Commander Rabb should have returned more than two hours ago for a meeting. He didn't call. His cell phone is turned off, no voicemail either. I even called his home number and left a message on the machine but there was no reaction too. I'm ... I'm getting really worried, Admiral. I ... there's something wrong, I - I feel it."

Harm turned around and tried to touch the next chair. He got exactly the same result.

Admiral Chegwidden took a close look at the woman in front of him. He knew about Colonel Sarah Mackenzie and her 'feelings' but he wasn't very fond of this subject. Sometimes a good CO had to look the other way or it would be no good for anybody. But he couldn't ignore her now. She would never have mentioned it, if it wasn't really bothering her. And two hours overdue were too much, even for Commander Rabb.

"Which case is he working on?"

With a look of horror Harm stared down. In his mind was a vision of him, sinking down, falling deeper and deeper until he was caught somewhere in the ground, helpless, hopeless ... he quickly dropped that thought.

Commander Sturgis Turner had quietly joined the group and cleared his throat now.

"Petty Officer Randy Carmichael. The bar-fight. Commander Rabb wanted to try and find a witness of the incident. Admiral, may I suggest ... I could check some hospitals and police-stations. Maybe the Commander has had an accident."

"Accident?" asked Harm terrified. "Oh, God, please, this cannot happen. This is - like a very bad mystery movie!"

The former SEAL saw Mac blanch at Turner's words but holding her composure. He stifled a deep sigh and nodded.

"Permission granted, Commander. Colonel, no stunts, I want you to have a good look into this case and find Rabb but one missing officer is enough. Understood?"

Mac came to attention. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"Dismissed." Chegwidden suddenly realized his surroundings, swallowed another sigh and returned to his office.

Harm stared once more at his hands, turning them up and down. He tapped at his chest, his head. No problem. He could feel the material of his uniform under his hands. He pinched himself. Ouch.

Mac looked at Turner. "I start right away, Mac. It shouldn't take long to get some results."

"I hope so, Sturgis. I'm in Harm's office."

"I'm here, Mac." Suddenly Harm was afraid of his own voice. "I'm here. And I think, I'm - I'm a ... ghost."